


History Book

by Oienel



Series: Korean History [2]
Category: Korean Drama, 쓸쓸하고 찬란하神 - 도깨비 | Goblin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, But it doesn't really count, Character Death, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Historical, Implied/Referenced Torture, Reincarnation, Romance, She is reborn either way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9054778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: To atone for his sins he is forced to wander the Earth searching for her, before it’s too late.





	1. Prologue: Silla

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to play around with the story that we can see while watching Goblin. And since I am a history freak...  
> First posted on tumblr.  
> See below for explanation of terms that I use.

_He is water, fire, wind. The light and the dark. And he was once a human. People considered him divine, even then. He was covered in red blood, when he marched for enemy. He was a warrior. Divine warrior._

*

There was dirt in the air. Clinging to armor, sneaking under clothes, clogging ears and nostrils, gluing eyelashes together. There was fear in the air. Clinging to skin, sneaking into hearts, clouding minds and taking away courage. There was smell of blood in the air, the was blood dropping on the ground, there was blood fertilizing the fields, there was blood smeared on the plates, not shining anymore. There was death on the field.

Dancing in the crowd, taking its toll, sparing none of the sides. Attacking like a lightning, swiftly, sneakily, vengefully, leaving a wake of bodies in its way. And if its agents could be seen everywhere, this one Angel of Death was invincible, was merciless, fearless, with his blade dyed red.

Even when his own blood was seeping into the fabrics of his tunica, even when his arm lost its feeling, when arrow struck a nerve, he did not put his sword down. The naked blade was still dancing among the enemies.

There was dirt in the air. There was fear in the air. There was blood, there was death, there was fatigue.

There was victory in sight.

*

There was capital in sight. Gyeongju, home for dynasty, home for aristocracy, home for general, home for his subjects. And now it was new capital for newly obtained lands. Gaya* has fallen, the body of its last leader on the carriage, his life taken away by the general.

They didn’t have a time to rest, to clean the dirt of the battle, to clean off the fatigue, blood and death. The general and his army marched back to capital, to bear good news to their King. No subject would wait with conveying a message as good as this.

Gaya has fallen. Silla* has emerged victorious.

*

Commoners were hitting the dirt with their foreheads. They were chanting general’s name. They were saluting him with words reserved for the king. Ten thousand years being invoked over and over again, ten thousand years* for the victorious general, ten thousand years for one that brought Gaya to its knees.

In retrospect, he should have known. He should have known that every one of those cheers, every _ten thousand years_ , was taking the years off his lifespan. Every enthusiastic greet was spilling his blood.

Reaching the fortress was never easy. Not for the enmity directed at him, but for her. And the heritage of his culture.

King was from _Sacred Bones*._ His blood was clean, his blood was mighty, his blood must stay this way. His blood must be passed down through another _Sacred Bones._

She was _Sacred Bones._ One of the last few, she had the luck, the privilege, and the curse of being _Sacred Bones_ , her bloodline not once blemished with unworthy, with shame.

He was _True Bones*._ Still aristocracy, still noble, still able to hold a high position in the country. But he could never be a king. And she could only be King’s woman.

That was the law, that was the custom, that was the reality.

Reaching the fortress was never easy. Not for the enmity directed at general, but for her being inside.

But reaching its gates victorious, with head of Gaya’s king, ready to be served on a silver plate to Silla’s lord, and being turned away, and being humiliated, and being called a rebellious traitor, that was beyond hard.

The burble of arrows raining on his soldiers, who arrived home, after risking their lives for this state, was deafening and maddening.

The sound of his steps on the stone inside the fortress was sure.

He never faltered. Not even when he saw her, dressed in pristine white, with crown on her head, so exquisite, and yet so subtle. She was elegant, sophisticated, shining, but not blinding. She was standing there, on the steps leading to her husband, and his lord, all mighty and calm, in front of the rows of bows.

She knew him, she knew what he came for. And she would have never stopped him. Her eyes seemed to be telling him a story, and yet he knew that she was reading him just as easily as he was.

She encouraged him, she gave him the right, one of the last _Sacred Bones_ sanctified his actions, consecrated his way, hallowed the outcome. Even against she shared her blood with.

With a wide bladed sword, naked in his hand, he came forward, ready to take the King, that should not be King. He did this, knowing that she will not see him succeed. She knew this as well, and she barely whispered, when the arrow struck.

Red looks best on white.

Red adornments on her back, red blood on the white stone, red stream flowing down the stairs, white face with eyes widely open, face still young and innocent, that all screamed injustice.

He shouldn’t have hesitated. He didn’t when they were killing his sisters. All of them _True Bones._ They were noble, there was _Sacred_ blood in them! It wasn’t flawless, but it was there!

If he just run forward he could have killed the tyrant. After that he could have died peacefully, probably through a public execution, but it would be a satisfying death. If he hadn’t seen his father dragged out there.

Looking back at her, laying on the stairs, with the arrow that found her heart, with regret and guild, drowning him, he chose death.

Wasting the opportunity given to him, but earned with blood of countless and nameless enemies, and with the blood of known comrades. And her. The spilled blood of _Sacred Bones_ opened him the way, and he did not reach the destination.

Kim Shin*, the divine, whose name was on the edge of being a blasphemy, who enemy blades could not reach, died in his capital, his perish hidden by the walls of the fortress.

*

Maybe it was her will to avenge her pointless death. Maybe it was her way to torment him to no end.

Maybe.

But maybe it was a way for him to atone his sins, to make amendments. Maybe it was a way from the Divine, a shortcut, for him to go back and finish would she allowed him to do, what she told him to do.

But going back to the fortress only to find the tyrant already dead, told him otherwise.

He was banished to the world of living, not dead, but not alive, to wander about, with countless powers, but yet powerless when it came to his own fate.

It was a punishment.

One that we wasn’t ready to take on himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaya – it was a confederacy of small polities on the southern part of peninsula, bordering Silla and Baekje, during the Three Kingdoms period in Korea. It was conquered by Silla.
> 
> Silla – one of the kingdoms on Korean Peninsula during Three Kingdoms period, it later conquered other states to form Unified Silla. Its capital was Gyeongju, now in the Gyeongsang province.
> 
> Ten thousand years (만세, _manse_ ) – a phrase used to wish a long life, derived from China. Korean used it mostly for their kings (during Joseon dynasty there was another phrase _Thousand Years,_ _천세_ _, cheonse,_ and it was used for Korean king, as a way to show that he was below Chinese Emperor for whom they used _manse_ ). It’s also a phrase used as a victory exclamation.
> 
> Sacred Bones (성골, _seonggol_ ) – the highest rank of Silla society. Only part of the ruling dynasty (Kim) was considered to be part of it, and only a person, whose both parents were from this rank could be a part of it.
> 
> True Bones (진골, _jingol)_ – second rank of Silla society. Consisting mostly of children of members of the ruling dynasty that married a non sacred bones, families of Geongju such as Parks and Seoks, and Kims that ruled Gaya, before its fall.
> 
> Kim Shin – it’s a quick note from me, his name could basically mean God (신)(I am saying could, because I need to see the character for his name to be sure, but it is quite possible, since the drama gives him god-like powers). And judging for him surname, he is a part of royal family, since he has surname Kim. Which, as a side note, is gold.
> 
> So he is Gold God.


	2. Chapter: Goryeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in the drama Kim Shin is from Goryeo, but you know, licentia poetica. It’s only a fanfiction, either way. Explanation below.

He wasn’t told who he was, who he has become. It took him generation to understand that he was no longer ageing. It took him two generations to find a name for himself, or rather for a peasant to call his name in fear.

_Goblin._

He was a goblin, and hearing that made him laugh. He has long forgotten superstitions his mother raised him on, since those were the superstitions that his father has beaten out of him. A goblin, mighty, half-divine entity, a transformed inanimate object. A mischievous creature, ready to punish the bad and to bless the good. But in the tales it was never mentioned that goblins had human form! It was said that they were grotesque looking ogres.

Or maybe him being goblin was a grotesque joke being played on him. Was his sin so grave that he was placed among ogres? To play pranks on criminals, and to help those deserving?

Only once he tried to take out the sword. Only once, and it brought him pain so mighty that it could not been compared to the pain of being stabbed and dying. It was just a human thing to do. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it out, he knew that it was a part of his punishment, and that this sword could as well have been his limb.

But he tried to out power the Divine.

After that one futile and embarrassing try (he could feel the condescending presence the whole ordeal), he focused on finding her.

The goblin’s bride. The one that would put him out of… This.

He didn’t yet know that _this_ was a misery.

*

What he didn’t know either was that, she was _her._ He spent his first century learning. Learning when humans became suspicious, learning how to fool them, when to move. He traveled to Baekje*, he travelled to Goguryeo*. He saw Lis taking over the China, beginning the Tang* dynasty, and the fall of its predecessor, the Sui*.  He saw Sogas seize the power through Buddhism in Wa*.

He became wealthy. But what is wealth where there is no will to use it?

He gained knowledge, but with no ambition, it was useless.

Somehow, his life was boring.

Except for countless voices he heard.

It took him a while before he understood that those were prayers. He never knew that goblins could hear wishes.

But he had no intention of reacting to those. It was another sign of his human nature dwelling in him, its residues fighting so they wouldn’t disappear. It was petty and so human of him to decline helping others, even if he had means to do so, because of his own misery.

But he was longing.

He was lonely and bored and longing, so he had finally come back to Silla.

It was heartwarming, seeing that nothing has changed. Peasants were still working, Hwarang* were still existing, Silla was still strong and prospering. His capital was even bigger, the fortress even more monumental. No one remembered the general that seized Gaya a century ago, only to be killed by his King, to whom he was loyal.

It was still hurting, like suppurating wound.

He spent half a year in his hometown, restless, but not ready to leave yet, and not ready to settle down. He felt the city buzzing, he felt that under the calm façade commoners were nervous, upheavals were in the air.

Capital was whispering, fearing, praying.

Their Queen Regnant, Seongdeok*, has fallen ill, her days coming to an end. She has not bore a child, leaving her to choose her cousin, Kim Seungman*, as the heir.

It wasn’t the source of the fear Kim Shin felt in the city. What made commoners restless and nervous, was _Sacred Bones._

They were dying. Queen didn’t give birth to a child, her sisters married _True Bones,_ her uncle and his wife gave birth only to one daughter, Kim Seungman. The next in line to the throne, was the last of _Sacred Bones._ With no man from the rank, the cast was bound to die.

People regarded it as a curse, a way for the Divine to show its disappointment. Without _Sacred Bones_ , who would became a ruler, when no one had right to do so.

Queen Seongdeok died soon, leaving a way for the last of her kin. Queen Regnant, Jindeok, took over the reins.

And Kim Shin saw her. All mighty and elegant in her palanquin, and yet so… Subtle and delicate. She came out with her guards and her officials, to be greeted by peasants. They all have fallen to the ground in deep bows, heartfelt proclamations filling the air. And she looked over them, over her subjects filling the place, over their dirt and clothes, and the shops behind them, and the white stones of the fortress, with jaw set and the eyes of a person left with a burden too heavy to carry.

And Kim Shin saw her, and saw her pain, matching his.

While he was out of the country, traveling, running away, she was reborn.

Queen Jindeok was _her._

And now she was out of his reach.

*

He oversaw her. He became one of the soldiers of her greatest general, Kim Yushin*. He fought his battles for her, he killed her enemies. It was what he could do, it was what he knew how to do. And knowing that one can’t die, brings out strength hidden deep inside.

He proved to be fluent in Tang’s language. He was promoted, and promoted, and oversaw her contacts with the Dynasty.

Sometimes she seemed to be recognizing him. In those agonizing moments, when her eyes would fall on his eyes, all red and tired and wet, he would wish he has been quicker. That he has found her before. Before she became queen, before she wedded other.

Again.

Before she died, all pale and coughing up with blood, she turned to him, still sitting on her throne, still wearing the crown, still refusing to leave the hall.

“For sure it’s not as painful, as the thing you have buried in your heart.”

It sounded poetical, other officers believed it to be his hidden secret, one-sided love.

Her eyes were fixated on his chest, where the sword only she could see remained buried.

She passed away that night.

*

He left in the morning.

He watched her for 7 years. He watched her rule, judge, choose, and finally fall ill and die, and he couldn’t do one thing. He couldn’t help her except for his work, he couldn’t cure her, he couldn’t save her.

He was too late, he came too late.

At least he didn’t have to watch her become mother to a child that wasn’t his own.

*

But he understood. That while he was away she was reborn, and she died, only to be reborn again. How many times had he missed her? Only twice? Every twenty years? How many lives she had lived in that passed century.

So he searched for her. For a girl that was born when Queen Jindeok died, a girl that had her eyes, her face, her spirit.

He found her body in the village that was pillaged by Wa’s pirates. He found her starved to death on the streets of the capital. He found her wedding palanquin leading to the house of her new husband. The decades passed, and as Silla was growing, unifying the peninsula, she begun to appear on the new terrains. In Gwangju, in Pyeongyang, in Jeonju.

But he was always too late.

*

He saw the fall of his Kingdom, he saw new one emerging, he saw the new dynasty ascending the throne, he saw the beginnings of the new country, Goryeo. It made him fear. She was only appearing on the lands that were called Silla, would she appear in Goryeo?

He found her in the palace of Song Dynasty. Born in Goryeo and sold as a slave. Once again he was too late.

He gave up. Tired, annoyed, having spent four centuries without reaching anything, without doing anything, with never ending stream of pleas rushing though his ears.

He wished for a moment of peace, he wished for silence in his life.

There, on the alien land, he understood, that only his own countryman were calling for him. Only those who have learned the stories, only those believing in his existence were mentioning him in their prayers.

So for the first time in his life, his goblin life, he helped. She was wishing for a way out of her misery, she wished for a way to escape from the palace, away from Emperor.

So he came to her, during the night, hearing her voice loud and clear. She was laying in the middle of the room, with rows of girls wishing for the same thing.

She was laying wide awake, elegant even in her dirty surrounding. She didn’t even flinch, when he found her among the bodies. They were sleeping, he made sure they would.

“You came.” She said, sitting up. “I believed you would.”

She was looking at him so earnestly, that he almost believed she recognized him.

But she didn’t. She recognized goblin, not Kim Shin.

“Please.” She whispered in the night, her eyes shining in the blue, unnatural light that his sword was emanating.

As he slashed her throat, she placed her hand on his heart.

*

He found her.

He found her in the seaside village in Goryeo. The village was destroyed, burned to the ground by Mongolians*. Her father was dead, her mother left without means to feed her and her brother and sisters.

But she was alive, and she was barely eight years old.

He came in time.

*

Her name was Binna, shining. And her eyes shone, when he saw her for the first time. Even as a peasant she was elegant and subtle and quiet, and her eyes spoke volumes about her intelligence. It was easy to say that she was older than her age.

He helped in rebuilding the village. He worked during  the night, he brought seeds for them to farm, he forced fishes into their nets, he protected the area from Mongolians and pirates.

He watched her grow.

And he made sure to turn any husband prospect away. Her younger sisters were married off first, her brother became scholar at Gukjagam*. And she was still there, in her village, in her mother’s house. Farming.

And wishing for something to happen in her life.

So he came. Not during the night to steal a glance at her, but in broad daylight.

He didn’t have a plan. He spent over a decade helping her, and yet, we wasn’t prepared.

***

“Mother, let’s eat outside. The weather is nice.” You say, not waiting for her to agree. You just take the table outside,  bowls filled with rice mixed with buckwheat, easy soy soup, and radish shaking threateningly. Wood is creaking under your feet, but outside your face is hit with fresh breeze smelling of salt.

You put the table down on the terrace, and you sit down, fixing cutlery and bowls on the table. Your mother comes out from the house, and sits down in front of you.

“Catch will be good.” She says, and you nod. Of course it will be good.

Your meal is not lavish, but the table is full, and your family doesn’t starve. Your younger sister has just given birth to a healthy boy, and your brother is bound to take the national exam next month. Good. Life is good.

“Eat well,” says your mother, and you glance at her, looking away from your village. It’s peaceful, and friendly to those that are friendly to it. Villagers still remember Mongolian attack. Attacks. The turmoil that drowned the country, that tormented Goryeo people for decades.

Man from the spices store passes by your fence, and you greet him.

“I will eat well.” You answer, and wait for her to eat the first bite, before you pick up your spoon.

Life is good. You have enough food, and enough grains to pay taxes, and to save for next year. Life is good.

You stuff your mouth with buckwheat and rice.

Life is boring.

You stir the soup with your chopstick wishing to catch a piece of fish, when you hear a thud of hooves. On the road leading to your village you can see a horse and a tall man.

Your mother turns around, and you both stare at him intrigued. It’s not a time for officials to come to collect the taxes, and even if they decided to come, they always travel with guards. No one would try to enforce king’s law without armored helpers.

Your village is not on the popular routes, you don’t trade, you don’t have skilled artisans, you cannot make pottery nor paper.

So no one ever comes.

The raider reaches the outskirts of the village, being closely observed by whole village, even if he couldn’t see them. He slows down, and makes his horse trot into the village.

You eat a piece of radish, quite openly staring. Village’s elder comes out to stop the man right in the middle of the square – central place for your village. It’s a market place and also where your Holy Tree is.

“What do you come for?” Asks the elder, quietly, but the wind brings his words to those listening around. You notice that you are chewing on nothing, with chopsticks still in your mouth. Your mother is equally engrossed in the scene, and she doesn’t scold you.

Unknown man is dressed way better than villagers, even though the type of clothing is the same. Fabrics are different, more costly for sure, but he doesn’t wear the clothes of an official.

He looks around, and you can see elder growing suspicious. Newcomer seems to be disturbed with this question, as if he doesn’t have an answer to that.

Who comes without a reason?

You click your tongue disapprovingly, and that catches your mother’s attention. The looks she gives you makes you feel smaller, and you bend your neck to take another spoonful. That’s when man looks into direction of your house, and your spoon falls on the table.

You know his face.

You saw him for the first time just after your father was killed. After that you saw it regularly, once or twice a month, and he would come bearing presents. You knew that his visits and sudden good weather or better catches were his work. You believed him to be a good spirit of the village, living in your Holy Tree.

But seeing him out there, in the broad daylight, being surrounded by villagers growing hostile?

You jump to your feet, without a plan, hurrying to run to his side. But before you reach the stepping stone, where you shoes are, your mother is already out of the gate.

You are stunned, and you watch her, as she approaches the growing group, spoon still in her hand.

“What do you mean _what does he come for_? You old fool!” She is furious, you are mortified, rider is clearly surprised, and the villagers are getting week worth of entertainment. “Don’t you think that it’s time for Binna to get married? My son-in-law came to fulfill his duty*!”

Man gets off his horse, and bows formally to your mother and to the elder, who sends people back to work. You slide down on the wood, powerless, observing how your mother leads him to your house. He is holding the reins of his horse, and he seems to be looking everywhere but you and your house.

“What are you doing?” Asks your mother brusquely. “Go fetch another bowl of rice!”

You jump to your feet once again, and this time you reach stepping stone to retrieve your shoes, so you can go to kitchen. You don’t look at the man, while doing so.

Your mother just gave you to him, and you don’t know what to think about that.

*

By the time you come back he is sitting at the table. His horse is tied to your fence, and your mother is looking at her bowl.

You place the bowl before the man,  and you sit down.

No one says anything during the meal, but you can feel his eyes on you.

Your mother comes to you after the meal, when you are cleaning the dishes and storing leftover food.

“You will marry him.” She says, and if you were calm before, you aren’t now.

“And who says so?!”

“I say so!” She erupts, and once again you feel small, but you want to still fight. And she sees that. “And he says so, and he is not a person to defy.”

“Mother, look at his clothes! He is not Gong nor Hu nor Baek nor Ja nor even Nam*! Why do you say he is not a person to defy?!”

“He is not a mundane! He is not from our world! He has chosen you, when you were eight. It’s all because of him, the house we live in, the plants we grow, the food we eat – even the fact that your brother can study and take the exam, it is all because of him! And if it means sacrificing you for that, then so be it!”

“Mother!” You are lost for words, and you are shaking, outraged with how little you matter for her.

“He wants you! He pushed away any other man. And think! If he gave us so much, would you lack anything in the future? Would you ever go hungry?” She reasons, her anger falling. “It won’t be bad. Being Goblin’s wife.”

“He is… A goblin?” You sputter, but you immediately realize that could be a logical explanation. He helps the deserving, and he has means to do so, even if he doesn’t look like a working aristocrat, and he doesn’t age.

“He is a goblin. And you are Goblin’s wife.”

*

Somehow you always knew that. Not that he was a goblin, or that you’d become his wife, but every time you saw him, you felt drawn to him. You’d miss him, and you’d wait for him every month. And somehow you would always wake up just in time to see him taking a glance through the doors.

That should be scary, but you never told your family about that.

As you walk out of the kitchen (having calmed yourself) you see him taking care of his horse. He also notices you, and he comes over to you, quickly, and it could be considered threatening, if you didn’t saw the nervousness in his steps.

Why would Goblin be nervous?

“My lady…” He starts, and you’d laugh if you haven’t had a thing to say on your own. _Lady_. You were never called lady, because you weren’t a lady.

“I will marry you.” After that you turn around and enter the house.

*

“I have yet to introduce myself, my lady.”

“Binna.” You say, moving out of the way so man carrying brushwood on his back.

“Excuse me?” He asks, copying your move.

“You keep calling me “lady”, but I’m not. I am Binna.” You say, and you pick up your pace, seeing port. Fishermen have already come back, and they were starting to sell their catch.

“Oh.” He sounds so sad, that you turn around abruptly. He is standing there, in the middle of the street, looking pained. “I am sorry, I forgot.”

“You forgot that I am not a lady?” You ask, but you have to admit that made you feel better.

“Yes, please accept my sincere apologies.” He seems so formal and well spoken, and yet he is not holding any official position.

_… because he is a goblin._

You nod and turn around. Your mother has sent both of you to the market. You were surprised that goblin obeyed, and he was now helping you pick the best pepper powder, the freshest product, the fattest fish, and he was helping you carry it around.

“I am also sorry for not being Gong.” He says as an afterthought, and you ignore him to focus on the things you need to buy.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, as you go back, thinking about him helping your house and your mother.

“Because I want to marry you, because I love you.”

You are stumped, and you halt, nearly tripping over your own straw-shoes. The hem of your dress is covered in dirt, your camisole has seen better days, your skin is not white, it’s brownish with a lot of freckles from the countless hours you spend farming. Your hands are calloused and nails dirty, your hair messy, even though you put them into braid.

You are not a lady, and you don’t look like one.

“What is there to love?” You mumble, and start walking again, shaken. He grabs your wrist.

“I’ve chosen you. It has to be you. I know it’s you. I love you.” He speaks, fast, urgently, frantically. He is so earnest in his words, that you cannot help, but believe him.

*

You finally learn his name. _Kim Shin._ It sounds like you’ve heard it before, like it should mean something to you, but it doesn’t. Your mother spends her days pushing and ordering him around, and you are moved by her caring, and at the same time you are surprised at her tenacity. To order half-divine being around?

But your future husband never complains.

Your mother sends both of you to the shaman, to pick a date, and she forces both of you to go to the Temple and pray. It’s a first time you travel on horse. For the whole time you hold soon-to-be husband, your arms tight around his waist, surprising yourself with how daring you are.

He prays next to you, and as you walk out of the Temple he holds your hand.

*

Date is set, your brother passed the exam, your nephew is old enough to travel. Village elder agreed to step in as a father of the groom.

Your mother no longer plays the role of the chaperone. He sleeps next to you, whispering to you, when he thinks you are asleep. He prays, he begs, he confesses, he apologizes, and promises you a better future.

You pray to the Deity, you pray to your Holy Tree.

You are falling for him, but the words whispered into night tell you, that you shouldn’t.

*

A fortnight before wedding officials come. It’s time to collect the taxes, and Kim Shin helps you move the bags with grains onto the square, along with tribute from the rest of villages. You all managed to grow or produce enough to meet the quota.

You aren’t going to fool yourself, by believing that you would manage without goblin.

Guards start counting bags and packing them on carriages, when the official steps on stone, just in front of your Holy Tree.

It is just after Harvest Festival. The Tree is still decorated in colorful ribbons, with pieces of paper with wishes written on them hanging from its branches.

Official has an order to read, and you don’t remember that ever happening. It feels ominous, and you glance on your soon-to-be husband.

Only a half moon more.

“…impose ban on marriages…*” You turn to the speaker, believing that you just misheard him. But the uproar of the people around, and sudden cold breeze tickling your skin tells you, that you heard correctly. “Moreover every village is obliged to put out an un-wedded maiden aged from 12 to 20 years old, as a tribute to Yuan Dynasty*.”

The roar grows louder, but you don’t really hear it over the blood thumping in your ears.

The other eligible girl married four days ago, and you see her on the other end of the square holding her husband’s arm, as they stare at themselves with relief and horror at what would have happened.

You look to your… You look to Kim Shin, horrified, with lump in your throat and heavy weight in your stomach.

Only a half moon more.

***

Was a joke from the Deity? Was Divine making him suffer, was Divine toying with him, teasing him, was he making him suffer for his own enjoyment?

How could the One let him believe he came in time, only to scam him?

He didn’t hear a thing over the villagers shouting their disgruntlement in the air, but he could see the pair whose wedding he attended not longer than a week ago, and he wished to be able to change places with them.

He needs to marry her! By law and by Divine, and yet one of those powers is denying it to him, and the other plans to take her away.

He won’t let them. He will kidnap her, he will take her to Wa, he will take her oversees, he will marry her there.

He was to dazed to notice the villagers attacking guards, his clouded mind not registering the storm coming from the sea. Suddenly streams of water fall on the village, immediately turning dirt into mud, for villagers and guards to get bogged down in it.

He has finally noticed that she is no longer on his side, and he turned around, panicked.

It was easy for guards to discern which girl was still maiden, and despite villagers keeping their ground, guards managed to capture her.

She fought and wriggled, and he hurried to her side, pushing his way through the rioting crowd. Official was growing angry and seemingly annoyed, and it didn’t bode well for the villagers.

He saw her being put on the carriage, and she head butted the guard, and stole his sword, running to the end of the carriage.

He was proud of her. He was so proud.

She turned around, bravely holding her sword.

“Kim Shin!” She called his name, without any title, so fierce and bold. She was no longer delicate, but his heart throbbed for her. “Lift the ban! Next time I will marry you, and I will take your sword out!”

He didn’t understand. He was confused, and scared. Rightly so, because she looked him in the eyes, and without hesitation slit her throat.

Next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baekje, Goguryeo – with Silla they make up the three kingdoms from Three Kingdoms Period. It ended with Silla taking over their lands and unifying peninsula into one country.   
> Sui, Tang, Song – Chinese dynasties, used mostly to help with the timeline of the story  
> Wa – name used by Chinese and Koreans for Japan.  
> Soga – one of the most powerful Japanese clans of the time. They the first clan to convert to Buddhism (after being asked to do so by Emperor Kinmei, after the new religion arrived on islands, thanks to Baekje), and through that they gained power. It is believed that they were Korean descendants.   
> Hwarang – Silla’s elite paramilitary group consisting of young man from noble families. Known to be “Flower Youths”, for their physical appearance (they were known to use cosmetics), but they were kind of a social club to discuss and to study art and classics, and art.  
> Seongdeok – first woman to become a queen regnant in Silla. Her biggest accomplishment (for us) was building a astronomical observatory in Gyeongju, Cheomseongdae, the first one in East Asia, and still standing.  
> Kim Seungman/Jindeok – last ruler of Silla to come from Sacred Bones.   
> Kim Yushin – Silla general from 7th century. He led the unification of the peninsula. Last ruler of Gaya is believed to be his ancestor. (His sister married his childhood friend that became a king of Silla. Can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the little similarities between Kim Shin and Kim Yushin?)  
> Goryeo – kingdom on the Korean peninsula that emerged after civil war after fall of the Unified Silla. In the drama, Kim Shin was born in this period. Also Moon Lovers take place during Goryeo Dynasty.  
> Mongolian Invasions (1231 – 1257) – numerous campaigns on Korean Peninsula, resulting in Goryeo becoming the vassal country of Yuan Dynasty (Mongolian dynasty that seized the power in China).   
> Gukjagam – first name of Sungkyungkwan, a Confucian school. Place for young man to study classics and to prepare himself for national exam, allowing him to become official.  
> Duty – the duty I am writing about is Goryeo tradition, where before getting married, and taking bride away from the house, groom had to live and work in her house, as a way to “train” him. And so the parents could see that he won’t mean harm to their daughter.  
> Gong, Hu, Baek, Ja, Nam – classes of the nobility in Goryeo. Gong was a duke, Hu was marquis, Baek was count, Ja was viscount, and Nam was baron. And yes, that is where the surnames you know come from.  
> Marriage Ban – Goryeo, as a vassal state to Yuan was forced to pay tremendous tributes in everything that peninsula had beautiful or valuable, so paper, ginseng, women. Korean women were believed to be gorgeous, and so Mongolians demanded woman, as much as 500 a month. It meant that there were not enough women, so Goryeo had to impose the marriage ban to make sure that the women are still eligible to be sent to China. Because married woman was of no value, since Mongolians wanted Korean women as wives.


	3. Joseon

He never thought he would. He never imagined himself doing that, but he did.

In the end it was a wish, screamed at him, by her. And he had to admit, it was a reasonable wish. Without marriage ban lifted it was impossible for her to become his rightful wife.

It wasn’t that easy either. To lift the marriage ban he needed to create situation where his country’s women wouldn’t be taken away by Yuan Dynasty. Which meant pulling Goryeo from under Yuan rule.

It wasn’t an easy process. Without a family to back him up, with a face that wasn’t getting older, and yet it wasn’t young enough.

So Kim Shin planned. He arrived at the capital, Gaegyong, and planned. He passed national exam, the composition test, placing among the highest rank. He did so good that he was placed in the office responsible for preparing those tests.

Not the best position, but with the knowledge he had, the tenacity, and even broader knowledge of the human nature, he was able to move up through the ranks, until he reached a quite significant position.

He reached King’s Secretary, and when Gongmin ascended the throne, Kim Shin has finally found an eager ear to listen to him. He scoured government offices, ministries for pro-Yuan officers, he picked them out meticulously, carefully, and then, with King Gongmin’s support, he pushed those aristocrats and military officers out of the ring of power.

Then he encouraged his king to strive for land that was taken away, he prepared plans, he even chose the best general to put them into effect, Yi Jachun and his son Yi Seonggye.

He may have started the process of pushing Yuans out, by whispering ideas into a willing to listen ear, but the time made it impossible for him to stay till the end of the process. While people around him were ageing, getting married, he remained unchanged, dodging marriage proposes, making people around him grow suspicious.

So he had no other choice to move away.

He observed from Yuan’s capital, distressed news of one valiant vassal state pushing Yuan’s military out of their lands being the smallest problem for the Mongol dynasty.

Kim Shin saw Mings push out the Yuans, which meant that the way home was open for him.

Coming back was always quite hard. That one thing never changed. He always needed to check what was different from the last time he wandered those lands. This time, for the first time actually, he was surprised.

He wanted to have the marriage ban lifted, and that happened. He may have thought about straightening Wang Dynasty along the way, so he have chosen the most loyal clan to push the Yuans out. The one that would not use it to their advantage.

And yet, he left Goryeo to come back to Joseon. New country, new dynasty. Not Wang. Yi. The son of the general, Yi Seonggye was no longer a military officer, he was no longer Yi Seonggye. He was Taejo, the founding king of Joseon.

The country changed, new laws were erected upon the Confucianism beliefs. And thus the fall of women begun.

It hurt.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t! Women weren’t supposed to become prisoners of their own houses, they weren’t supposed to be stripped of their rights to learn, to inherit, to live, to matter.

He didn’t work so hard to see women, which all possessed the ability to do great things, be pulled away from opportunities by their life companions.

It hurt.

Seeing in the back of his mind her in her first life (for all he knew), a wife to a king, but an educated one, with vast knowledge and her own private army, reminiscing her other life, her being a queen, a good one, remembering her last reincarnation he met, that young brave woman, who understood, and sought her own death for him.

Knowing that she would be immediately reborn. And he could try again.

But he couldn’t find her.

He searched far and wide, and yet he couldn’t find her. As silly as it may have sounded, he couldn’t even feel her. As is she was hidden from him, because he was sure, that she was somewhere, living hidden away by her father, brother, maybe husband. Somewhere, under the thatch, tucked away.

He knew it was a punishment. Deity’s way to show its discontent with him, that with his actions he initiated political changes that resulted in women losing their rights, among other things.

And he understood it. He lived long enough to understand that, he remembered times when a woman was equal to a man.

But he knew it couldn’t last forever. Deity would allow him to meet her again.

*

He finally did. He met her after about 140 years. Maybe two full lifespans, maybe more. Maybe she finally had a family. Children. Maybe she had finally managed to die in peace, in her bed, in her sleep. Or maybe as it happened before, she died young, of hunger, attack, accident.

It didn’t matter.

He met her. He knew it was her, maybe in the end of that second lifespan.

She was old. Not ill and tired, but just that – old. Under wrinkles he saw her features. In her eyes there was this familiar shine.

She saw him. On the street, between the buildings, surrounded by children. He asked himself whether they were related. Grandchildren maybe?

She was old, and hunched over, probably from spending years carrying children on her back and working field, but her eyes were as intelligent as ever. She ushered kids away, into the safeness of the fence surrounding shack behind her, and slowly, painstakingly she crossed the street to finally stop in front of him.

“You are late.” Her voice was hoarse, devoid of its usual melody. And she seemed disappointed, like a mother of a child that keeps making the same mistake. “You are late.”

For a second Kim Shin believed that she mistook him for somebody. She couldn’t have known him.

But then the intelligence that shone in her eyes came back to him and he realized that she knew. She recognized him, not for being a goblin, but for being Kim Shin.

“I waited. I waited so long, because I was sure you’d come.” She sounded even more tired than she looked. She lamented, and in the middle of her tirade, she raised her hand and hit his chest, like a disappointed lover would do.

It broke his heart. Again.

“I waited so I could take it out, I waited all my life, and now you come!” It’s too late when he realizes that she is crying, with her wiry and crooked fingers clenched on the fabrics above his heart, where his sword was buried.

He hugged her, her hunched and fragile frame, there on the street, as indecent as that was.

In a cruel joke Deity let her keep memories of her previous lives. In a cruel joke Deity lead him away from the one that was waiting diligently, the one that refused marriage life in the country where woman without a husband was nothing.

She waited. And he didn’t come.

*

She died. In her bed. In her sleep.

But she did not go in peace. She kept having nightmares, she kept getting thinner and paler by every passing day, as if he brought a disease upon her.

And probably so he did.

He observed her burial, and he wasn’t surprised to see many people crying and lamenting, even though there was no money to pay for them. People were genuinely upset.

Of course they were. It was _her_ burial.

*

This new era was confusing. And hard. As if it was another plague sent upon him for his involvement in fall of Goryeo Dynasty. People were thriving. They lived longer.

And yet they married so young. Girl over twenty was considered a spinster. Girls at the age of eight were considered eligible to become a wife to a prince. Girls at the age of six entered royal palace, or gisaeng’s houses. Girls at the age of six were given away as a brides to work as a maids at home of their in-laws until they enter their adulthood.

Six, eight, up to twenty. He wasn’t given enough time to search for her. He found her every time, to see her being wedded to another. And he could do nothing about that than wait. Decades. Until she died natural death, and moved on to then next life, giving him a chance to try again.

It was disheartening, but he would never give her up.

_Never._

***

 _Discard all desire to be the wife of one man. When one is able to eliminate all useless emotions,_ _one’s life is much more joyous than other women’s lives. A courtesan must possess vast knowledge and learning. The depth of courtesan’s life is profound. When it comes to beauty, no one is given more freedom than the courtesans. Courtesan do not worry over trifles like money. Her splendor cannot compare even to the King’s women in the Palace. Furthermore, she possess something that not even the princesses have._

_Music._

_It is the sound of courtesan’s heart. It is the sound of the waterfall, that cascades over and refreshes one’s soul._

_A life that feeds on dance and music._

_That is courtesan’s life._

You’ve heard it so many times. You’ve heard it for years. You’ve heard it over and over again since your foot touched the wooden floor of the gisaeng’s house. You heard it in the beginning, you’ve heard it along the way, you’ve heard it when you did something right, and you’ve heard it when you made a mistake.

“Chunwoo!” Your hand jerks delicately, as sudden call startles you, but you are skilled enough not do smear your make up. “Chunwoo!”

You fix your hold on the brush, and swipe it across your lower lip, careful not to put too much color on your mouth. Delicate, delicate, _delicate._

Slave girl is coming closer, calling your name urgently. Well, not name, it’s pseudonym, Chunwoo, _Chun-woo,_ Spring’s Rain. Fresh, rejuvenating, delicate.

“Chunwoo, I am coming in!” She halts in front of your chambers, her shadow sipping through paper doors, and she enters just as you put the scrap of paper with print made of your lips. “Chunwoo, Overseeing Lady is calling for you.”

“Is that so?” You ask, bowing slightly to retrieve box with accessories so you can choose rings for today. You settle on double jade rings.

You are courtesan, you can wear rings that are reserved for married women, you are courtesan, you are above mundane laws. You are free among the slaves.

And yet you are a slave.

You check your wig, fixed on your head into elaborate hairdo, with various adornments made from finest material by finest artisans.

Were you a commoner, you would sigh, but you are not, so you just stand up, your accessories shimmering and ringing with your every move. Slave girl’s eyes widen slightly, in awe at your luxurious, lavish clothes and adornments, and you assess her – she is not younger than you are, but she is a government slave, and you are…

You are glorified government slave.

She helps you to put on the shoes, made from finest deer’s leather and dyed by the most skilled shoe maker in capital.

You gather your cardinal red skirt, not to stain its hem, your arms falling into your rehearsed position, now nearly natural, elbows far away from your body, pushed forward, spine straight, head held high – you are proud, you are elegant, you are beautiful, you are unconquerable.

Unless somebody pays enough.

You arrive at Overseeing Lady’s chamber. You walk in, nearly not greeting the owner, and you sit down without permission, bringing one of your legs up, putting your hands on your knee, elegant sitting position.

Overseeing Lady doesn’t even bat an eye.

She shouldn’t. Not to her best courtesan.

“Chunwoo, you are booked for tonight. By Minister of Personel.” She says, checking her ledger, and you nod, not surprised. Minister of Personel sends for you every five days. Sometimes more often. It’s actually a night for your to relax, since he pays enough for you not to visit any other patrons. He pays your gisaeng’s house enough to ensure that you won’t be sent to another meeting.

When you step over the threshold, wall-less gama is waiting for you, along with three other courtesans that will accompany Minister’s guests.

You get on, and slaves stand up, and start walking, and other girls follow. There is a guard coming first, and as your procession marches on the street, people greedily peering into your vehicle to see one of the best courtesans.

Of course, they couldn’t recognize you, but courtesan having her own gama? That is a skilled and favored courtesan.

And you know that you deserve nothing less.

*

“Lord, please, don’t do that!” Giggles Sukwol, and you smile indulgently as Minister’s nephew tickles the girl.

You have yet to cross your twenty years, but it’s been long since you did that. You are too elegant to allow any patron to behave like that around you.

Since you take only the highest paying.

Minister laughs coarsely, and turns to you, as if wishing you did that. You _won’t_. You smile once again, smile not reaching your eyes, as you pick up the vessel with rice wine, and Minister grunts as he picks up his celadon cup.

You realize he is getting disgruntled, and his mood is getting worse every time he calls for you.

It’s because he has yet to bed you.

It’s not like you are still a girl, you’ve raised your hair long time ago, and you lay with patrons, but you rarely do so. And you choose your own partners.

The freedom you are given, and the only one you really enjoy having. A right to choose your partners.

Of course, it’s not that easy as it sounds, it’s hard to say no, and you cannot bluntly refuse – as not to damage the honor of the patron. Gisaeng with enemy will not live in peace. But your wits are enough to keep you out of the chambers of men you don’t want to sleep.

“Lord,” you say, with a voice slow and sultry, to catch his attention. “Would you like to hear me play?”

No official would say no to private concert, especially performed by skilled artist.

And courtesans are the best out there.

Minister calls his slave to bring you gayageum, and you move away from the table, everyone around turning, to prepare to listen to you.

Slave brings you the instrument and you sit down, positioning it on your leg, and you smile slightly at the floor, making sure that everybody sees how shy and lost in your artistry you are.

You struck the first cord only when you are sure that everybody is focused on you.

As they should.

*

You are traveling back alone. Girls stayed to accompany Minister’s guest through the night, and you left to make sure that Minister will once again call for you. You don’t want to lay with him, but you want him to keep filling your pockets.

But you know that you need to make Minister forget about you soon. You know that denying yourself to men make them want you even more, it’s a simple idea. But you realize that the longer you keep that up, the more obsessed they become.

And this night Minister uttered words you dread the most.

_Marriage._

Of course your status makes it impossible for you to marry someone. You are courtesan. You are registered, you are a property of government, you and your future daughters (if you ever bear one) belong to gisaeng’s house, to forever be wife to many.

But officials with high positions, such as Minister, can bypass those rules. They can ask for a courtesan to be taken out of the register, so they can take her as their legal concubine.

And if you dreaded your work, you’d dread being Minister’s concubine even more.

Even if low in status, your work gave you certain freedom and power over men from noble families. And as a concubine you wouldn’t have either. You’d be bound to one man, you didn’t even fancy, and you’d be under his legal wife orders. Life of second wife is never easy.

Nor that courtesan’s life is. But it’s still better than concubine.

Night is cold, but windless, and  your hands are getting still, but you have nowhere to hide them. You are not wearing dangui, it’s considered too modest and prudent. Not the image you want to have as a courtesan.

_Traveling alone, through cold nights_

_Lady, where are you going?_

_Stay, stay, rest with me_

_No one is expecting you home!_

You motion for your carriers to stop, bawdy song reaching your ears. You know it’s impromptu song, because you recognize its melody. Which means that the song is for you, and it does the trick, you are curious.

Singer turns out to be a noble man. You can judge it by his silk robes and clean face. His face tells you that he as a virtuous life and successful son, bound to pass his exam.  His posture tells you that he belongs to military’s officials. And his son would to.

“Lord, I gather your lady is waiting for you at home.” You answer with a smile, that is a little too bright for a patron. But he is not. And he is intelligent enough to make you halt. So he deserves an award for that.

_Not yet with me, but already jealous_

_Lady, your beauty is unrivalled_

_Let me calm your vain heart_

_On the bed, on the floor, on the rock._

You can’t help, but laugh. He praised you, just to mock you and offend you, but his tongue is skilled enough for you to be unable to take offence.

His voice is also nice, but you can tell that he is not trained in singing, but he is good enough for his songs to be pleasant.

It’s stimulating, and even before you know it, your mind is searching for right words.

_The longer the verse_

_The lesser the meaning_

_Lord, don’t call for those_

_You cannot comfort._

He laughs, and bows to you, accepting his loss. You bow back, smile indulgent and warm. You wave to your carriers to pick up your dama.

You smile all the way home.

*

“Chunwoo!” It’s your day off, your fertile days came, you are prohibited from seeing patrons. And yet young slave is calling for you. “Chunwoo! Overseeing Lady asks for you! It’s important!”

You don’t bother asking what for. You don’t bother saying that it’s your lazy day. You just stand up, and go out – posture perfect, even though you are not wearing your usual robes, and you don’t have your wig on.

You don’t reach Overseeing Lady’s chambers, she meets you outside, hurried and urgent.

“Chunwoo, you have a client, important client!” She utters, and you are surprised to see her so shaken.

“I cannot, I am fertile.” You answer calmly, counterpoint to her wavering voice.

“As if you ever bedded patron without wanting to do so.” She snorts, and it’s so unnatural. Overseeing Lady is an ageing courtesan, she would never do something so inelegant like snort. You wonder who managed to shake her stiff demeanor and force her into this crude being. What kind of person was able to do that?

You are curious, and despite your valid objections, you find yourself going back to your chambers to prepare yourself to entertain this important, and mysterious, guest.

You are not quick, but the time you spend preparing yourself is reasonable, considering the fact that you had to wash yourself, change clothes, make make-up and do your hair. Overseeing Lady even send you girl to help. Every courtesan can do it all herself, but help is vital to cut time.

You gather your skirt in your hands, elbows pushed forward, head high, eyes low, careful not to show whites below your pupils, epitome of splendor, personification of men’s desire.

You walk through the gisaeng’s house like an owner – buildings may be government propriety, girls may be overseen by Overseeing Lady, but everybody knows that you rule the place. The best courtesan, the most beautiful, the most skilled, the most mysterious, breathing dream.

Slave boy opens doors for you when you arrive at the main pavilion. That’s where guest are entertained. Most chambers are occupied, and you hear laughter and music as you walk down the corridor. Your ornaments are shaking and ringing minutely, your lavish skirts are shimmering with your every move, but your steps are light enough not to produce sounds. You nearly float, body straight, head not moving up and down, but always staying at the same level.

As you thought your guest is waiting for you in the main chamber, the one reserved for bigger parties, with 8 patrons attending. Another slave boy opens doors for you, and you excuse yourself as you walk in.

You look at the floor, careful not to look at your guest until you reach your pillow. Only when you sit down, you slowly, maddeningly slowly, look up, as you fold your hands on your knee.

It’s singer from yesterday.

You don’t allow yourself to show your surprise.

“Lord.” You greet him, and he nods, looking at you intently. “I have to admit, that I am happy that I decided to go with _comfort_ instead of _afford_ , because I would have lost our squabbling.”

He stares at you for a longer second, maybe deciding what to make of your words, but then he laughs.

“Wit is a sign of intelligence. And yours is unparalleled, my Lady.” He says, and your eyes fly open.

“What lady, my Lord? I am no lady, please I don’t deserve to be called lady, I am just a mere servant.” You say urgently, suddenly horrified for this indecent breach of your country’s laws. You are terrified, and he looks definitely troubled.

“I am sorry for startling you, my…”

“Chunwoo, my Lord.”

“Chunwoo. Spring’s rain.” You nod, confirming characters used for your name.” And you are Chunwoo, because…?”

“Because I bring new will, a rejuvenating water to make all nature alive again after dreary winter.”

“Indeed you do.” He says, and your eyes snap up, at his face. His words are quiet, as if he was talking to himself, and not to you. His face is handsome, but now, in the light, you realize it’s weary. He looks older than you thought, he looks as if his son was already an official, with his wife being pregnant.

That would be about right, since your patron looks around 35years old.

And yet you cannot deny that he emanates power of a man in his twenties, but intelligence speaking beyond his age. He is wise, he is knowledgeable – that’s why he was able to grab your attention with a mere four-verse.

And now you feel like he allowed you to win last round.

You realize that you want him.

“Lord.” You say, throat tight with sudden desire overflowing your body. It’s been so long since you really wanted somebody. “May I dance for you?”

His nostrils flare, and he doesn’t say a word, focused on your face, as if he was enthralled, listening to the words you did not speak. You dare to ask again, and only than he reacts. You wonder if he even heard you asking first time around.

He nods his head, looking shaken.

So you stand up, moving away, to the center of the room. Normally you’d call for musician, but you don’t want to, you can dance without music.

You pour all your heart into your dance, movements light and easy, but full of symbols, heavy with longing and light with joy, weary with grief and enthusiastic with hope. Every move is deliberate, but not rehearsed, you allow yourself to just feel and live the emotions you try to convey.

You don’t know where they come from, but you know that even without music that may be the best dance you’ve ever performed. For dancers the older they are the better their dance, because they can put all of their experiences into their steps – but you are still card blanche, you are still young, and without luggage, so your dance should not be as enthralling.

But it is, shedding layer after layer, pouring ages of experience you shouldn’t have into one perfect dance.

But the time you finish, he is standing up, tears flowing down his face, and disappearing in his neatly cut beard.

You don’t get to bow, because when he realizes that you’ve finished, he comes over, bringing you into his arms, and the warmth feels familiar. Though it should not.

His fingers on the ribbon tying your jeogori together shouldn’t be familiar, but they are. So shouldn’t be his hands on your shoulders pushing the article down your back, but they seem familiar.

His face is familiar, his mouth kissing yours feel as if you’ve kissed those lips many times before.

Except you didn’t.

And yet laying down without bedding to soothe your back seems right. It seems right to fight with his habok’s jacket, it seems right to pull the strings of his hat free, so it fall next to you. Your see-through jacket that was hiding under jeogori falls to the ground, and your naked arms touch the paper floor. It’s not cold, the ondol is working, but it seems to be clouding your mind.

You don’t believe that there could be something more important than laying with him in this exact moment.

You help him with the layers of your skirts, baring your legs, your thighs, your abdomen, baring yourself, and he growls a pained sound, hurrying to unfasten his pants, the multitude of strings making this a gargantuan effort. He seems to be struggling, lost in need and desire, so your hands come up, and you rest them on his face, intimate and calming, and you soothe him, thumbs caressing his skin.

He whimpers, head bowing, and lips leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

Then he slides into you, and it’s been so long that you whimper.

 He cradles you in his arms, fond and affectionate, and it pains you. You are a gisaeng, a courtesan, and over-glorified whore – you don’t deserve this type of emotions. You don’t even deserve this poor substitute of real feeling.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve searched for you.” He whispers against your skin, and you wonder why – he doesn’t have to woo you anymore, he did it, you opened your legs for him. Why he still cares?

But between his long, penetrating thrusts, he keeps caressing your hair, and he keeps whispering into your ear, which leaves you breathless and on the verge of tears, your hands fisting on the back of his undergarment.

“I’ve searched far and wide, I searched for years, I haven’t stopped even for a while. I am sorry it took so long, I am sorry that another raised your hair, I am sorry, I am sorry…”

Were your tears the product of pain piercing your heart, or the pleasure building in your gut?

*

Month.

One month, twenty eight days, filled with longing. It was unnatural, you shouldn’t be so affected by this one visit. But he loved you, on the floor in the main pavilion. He held you close, and he caressed your hair, and he whispered loving words against your skin, to promise that he will comeback. And he left.

He left you alone, to work as you used to, when you felt that it wasn’t possible anymore. In every man you saw him, and every man was lacking in comparison to him.

But Kim Shin told you to wait.

_Kim Shin._

So you did.

*

Fifty days. Fifty days since you saw him. Fifty days of heavy heart and even heavier body.

You are no longer Chunwoo, _Spring’s Rain_ , rejuvenating, refreshing. You are Chuwoo, _Fall’s Rain_ , weary, dull and depressing rain that comes to destroy crops, and to bring colorful leaves down from the trees turning them into mushy heaps.

*

Eighty days. Eighty days and no sign of Kim Shin, that promised to come back. To come back for you.

Eighty days since you saw the father of the child you carry under your heart.

*

Hundred and twenty days.

Hundred and twenty one days.

Hundred and twenty two days.

*

You knew what it was the moment Overseeing Lady brought the vessel to you. The liquid inside was dark, leaving the sheen layer of oily smear on the vessel’walls.

She left your quarters, leaving the ominous drink on your desk. You sat on your bedding, perfect hair-do, perfect make-up, perfect adornments, perfectly chosen hanbok. You were as pristine as always.

Hundred and thirty five days.

Your hand snatched the bowl and you poured the liquid down your throat.

*

You woke up in the pool of blood.

Your blood.

Your child’s blood.

Hundred and thirty six days.

*

King’s order came. You were taken out of the registry.

Whole house was stunned, every girl was terrified. Minister has done it, he had managed to take you out from the ministry, to take you as his concubine.

Hundred and forty four days.

*

You tore your sheets. You tore it to pieces, you wrangled with them, but you did not cry. You were told that courtesan should not let her emotions show. She should never let anyone see her cry. She should never be seen looking less than perfect.

 _Discard all desire to be the wife of one man. When one is able to eliminate all useless emotions,_ _one’s life is much more joyous than other women’s lives. A courtesan must possess vast knowledge and learning. The depth of courtesan’s life is profound. When it comes to beauty, no one is given more freedom than the courtesans. Courtesan do not worry over trifles like money. Her splendor cannot compare even to the King’s women in the Palace. Furthermore, she possess something that not even the princesses have._

You told yourself over and over again, your bare feet tickled by grass, morning dew gathering on your soles and toes.

_Music._

_It is the sound of courtesan’s heart. It is the sound of the waterfall, that cascades over and refreshes one’s soul._

_A life that feeds on dance and music._

_That is courtesan’s life._

You sang the song, quietly, allowing the wind to overpower your voice. You danced on the balls of your feet, your heart light for the first time in months.

Hundred and forty five days.

You sang as you threw the sheets over the branch, you sang tying knot. Your feet danced in the air, as you broke your neck.

_That is an end of courtesan’s life._

***

He did it. He found her, and he had a way to make her his. And she was willing to become his, she offered herself to him willingly. He vowed to comeback, wanting nothing more than stay his all time with her.

But to take her as his wife he needed to take her out of the register. So he went to the palace. Once again he took the national exam, he passed it with flying colors. He entered six ministries, he worked his way up, he gathered favors, until he managed to do it, until his king granted him his wish. It took him less than a half a year.

He couldn’t believe his lack. Five months! Only five months it took him to obtain the right to make her his. Rightful wife.

Decree in his hand he walked to her, he walked proud and happy, energetic steps of a person that knows that hardship is over.

Energetic steps that falter when he sees a mournful-white on a silhouette hanging on the blossoming plum tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of right now I am too tired to do the usual dictionary. I will probably make it tomorrow, but if you have any pressing questions message me. I am always eager (happy) to answer.


	4. Tamna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamna is Jeju Island, it's an old name, Korean still jokingly use it.  
> I spent last semester studying there, so I had to pay my kind of tribute to this lovely, albeit quite boring island.

He kept getting the same dream. The same weird, colorless shapes, scarcely illuminated, dancing just behind his closed eyelids. With no sense or pattern to it. And overwhelming, freezing pressure forcing itself upon him, pushing the air out of his lungs, suffocating him, strangling him, terrifying him.

He was a Goblin, a mighty entity, and yet he dreaded those dreams, flinched at the barest thought of those nightmares.

They started the day he saw her delicate feet dancing in the air. Was it Heaven’s punishment? For driving her to death, once again? Was those her last moments, while the rope tightened around her delicate, pale neck? Did she suffer, with the strange shapes moving behind her eyelids, as her body fought for one more breath, as linen slowly strangled her? Did she feel her spirit slowly leaving her body, did she feel the tips of her fingers growing cold?

He hoped that death came quickly, that she broke her neck before she could experience the horrors of being suffocated. He hoped that it was only a brief moment before she moved to her next destination.

He hoped that she wouldn’t remember this life.

But the dreams, haunting him in his sleep, and tormenting him during the day, kept telling him otherwise.

And even though he could not cease on his living, as a half-divine being, every night he kept dying with her.

*

And again – he couldn’t find her. Year, after year, decade after decade, she was eluding him. He didn’t catch the barest glimpse of her, as if she wasn’t there.  He even started to wish to catch her _too late_ , dying on the street or in the arms of another, just to know that she was somewhere out there. But she wasn’t.

He traveled to Qing, he traveled far away to Mongol lands, but he couldn’t travel to his nation’s overseas neighbor, since they closed their borders.

He saw them. The _Westerners_. The Big Noses, with their tight clothes and loose hair, and smell so horrendous he couldn’t help choking. With their skin so pale and their bright eyes, and their crosses, and hard boots.

He didn’t trust them. No one really did. But they brought knowledge and weapons, and threat. His own nation, looking at what was happening in Tokugawa’s state, closed its borders to unknown devil.

But as closing decrees went, king Injo did not only close Joseon’s borders to unknown devil – he closed it to known devil as well.

Tamna. The island of horses and sweet tangerines, the island without beggars, thieves and locked doors. The island of wind, stones and _women._

Tamna. The island that was Baekje’s vassal, the island that was Shilla’s vassal, the island that was Koryeo’s vassal, and now was a part of Joseon. As islands go it was quite big, and was considered most important horse breeder region of the country, and yet Joseon people were distrustful of people living there, deciding to ignore their bare existence.

So did Kim Shin.

And for him it was clear – that’s where she was.

*

Shaman is dancing on straw mat. Her striking white clothes furl around her, looking like white cloud that came down from heavens. The wind is howling, yanking at banners and shaman’s long sleeves. Behind her sea is dark and angry, waves high and decorated with white foam, crushing into rocks forming dragon’s tail. Salted water hits your face over and over again, bringing the smell of home and fear of sea’s power.

Shaman’s white socks are visible from under the hem of her robe, her toes pointed upwards, as her heels dig into mat. She doesn’t seem to mind the rocks underneath it. The sound of drums played by village elders is speeding up, reverberating in the air, hitting cliffs behind you, harmonizing with angry waves.

Shaman yells suddenly and drops lifeless on the mat, and you immediately look down, afraid to see the sacred ritual. The smallest mistake, the smallest transgression may have fatal consequences.  Shaman screams again, and you catch a glimpse of her eyes – dark and blood rimmed and it gives you cold shiver running down your body. Shaman’s pupils nearly disappear, as she rolls her eyes back into her skull. It’s horrifying, and you know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can’t stop yourself.

Other women are hurdled together clearly smarter than you are – their eyes focused on rocks below you. But you can’t, you simply can’t.

You came here to pray to Yongdu the Dragon, to bring you abundant catches and as many returns as dives. Here at Yongduam, you gather every year to pray, to offer food, to perform the ritual, that is supposed to bring you good year.

Shaman yells once again, and single wave roars as it surges past dragon’s tail, over the rocks reaching straw baskets filled with food, and you stare fascinated at lifeless shaman, as water reaches her body, flowing over the mat, covering her, engulfing her, forming a dragon around it.

You catch it’s eye – formed from water, but seemingly solid and furious.

You sigh, and drop your eyes, feeling something drop in your chest. You don’t dare to look up until you hear other women moving. By the time this happens water is gone and waves calmed down. Shaman is slowly standing up, baskets and banners gone.

Seems like Yongdu accepted your offerings.

*

There is heavy knocking on the wood. You stir and sigh – hearing your sisters do the same. But none of you complains as you stand up. Clothes hastily put on, beddings hastily put away, balls made of buckwheat in your hands as a breakfast and you are on your way, horse bladders filled with air and straw baskets on your backs.

Village is only waking up, but women are already on their way. In few hours sun will go up – men will wake up and go to farm or breed horses, but your job, female job starts way before theirs.

You heard that mainlanders believes that man is stronger and overall more useful than woman, and that he is the head of the household – which for Tamna people is quite a foreign thought. Women can dive, women can fish, women can feed whole family. Men just can’t survive what you do – cold and water pressure.

You started diving when you were seven years old – the same year your cousin aged ten started working with horses. Twelve years later and you can support you and your family if you had to, and he… Not really.

And you have yet to reach top tier. Your skills are good, but you can’t yet hold your breath long enough, but you hope that next year you’ll be able to move up.

Because yes, you are a free diver, you are woman of the sea, you farm the rocks for sea salad, you dive for abalones, conches, little octopuses.

You reach your bulteok, and with your sisters you go in between wall made of rocks. There are two entrances to this roofless building – one small, with few corners so no outsider can see inside, and the second one: open leading right to water. Bulteok is the heart of your community, there are hooks in the walls, there are bonfires to warm up, and more importantly every one inside is part of your family. You go out together, you come back together.

You greet your elders, sitting half-naked near one of the bonfires, wrinkled faces and sagged bodies – but still active divers. Right next to oldest divers one woman is breastfeeding her newborn – she is also going to dive with you.

You shuffle to one of the walls quietly greeting other divers and start changing. Your working clothes consist of loose underpants reaching your midthigh and sleeveless tunica. Ready, you sit down to help your younger sister fix her taewak, the net you use to store your catch.

And then your leader calls – it’s time. Forty or so women go out to sea, _may Yongdu bring you back_ being uttered all over the beach.

You don’t just march in. You go in slowly, accustoming yourself with water, as your leader reminds you that it’s still too early for octopuses and not to catch fishes smaller than your hands. And then you divide into four groups, depending on your tier, and together you swim out to your respective areas. You and other middle tiers swim out in the cold water to where it’s around twenty meters deep. After reaching your position, you rest on top of horse bladder, which your taewaks are fixed to, and drop anchoring rocks in.

And then when you hear the sound to dive – you do.

*

Usually you stay in the water up to four hours. Then you go out to rest, warm yourself, eat something, clean your catch, and after about an hour you go back. You go out to fish up to three times a day – usually in the summer, but the most common is two times a day. It still adds up to eight hours in the water, and it’s a hard job.

After a catch you share it, making sure that food is shared equally between you and the catch that is supposed to pay your taxes to Joseon’s king.

He is not _your_ king. You are a woman of Tamna, free and self-sufficient, way better than any of land-walkers. But to keep your village and community at peace – you pay the tribute. To king, to Yongdu. As long as you are all safe.

*

Water is warmer than usual – it’s a clear sign of storm coming, but you trust your elders. You know that they are monitoring the waves and wind and clouds, and they will notice you as soon as it starts to get dangerous.

But for now, you wedge a sickle between rock and abalone. Few practiced pulls and abalone is yours, and you swim to the surface to put it in your taewak. You can see top tier divers further in the water, two women resting on the air-filled bladders. Sea is calm, but clouds overheads are dark and fear-inducing.

“Are they going to call us in?” You hear and you look around your shoulder to face Sunyi. She is older than you, by two years, and still only in the middle tier.

Before answering you catch your bladder, to let legs rest and you push yourself around to eye the shore. You can see your leader with village elder on the shore, clever eyes surveying water from underneath bushy, white eyebrows.

“Seems like it’s not time yet, sister.”

“It should be time.” She huffs, and disappears under the water. You can agree with that statement. You look to the open sea once more, and you see your mother in the top tier, resting on the bladder. She notices you, and you expect her to urge you to go back to fishing, but she starts to sing.

 _We, the Tamna divers,_  
Absent women of the sea,  
Miserable households  
Our world knows.

 _On the cold day,_  
On the sunny day,  
On the rainy day,  
Our sore bodies on the water float.

Other ladies, that are out to catch a breath join in. It’s a statement and way to give strength to go back to diving. You don’t join the song, but you dive – in the your mother _did_ urge you to go back to fishing.

Visibility is good under the water, even though the light is scarce. It’s always easier with the sun – but without more water creatures appear near the shore. You see a sea cucumber, and decide that this will be your next catch.

You catch it with your bare hand, it does feel slick and wriggly under your fingers, but you know that it will make a nice soup.

You swim back up, noticing that not a lot of girls are under the water. Maybe the called you in? But then again, most of them are facing _away_ from the shore.

You reach the surface and stuff your sea cucumber into the net, and grab your bladder to see what the rest of divers are focusing on. Weather was changing, waves already picking up. Now you can feel the wind on your face and first drops of rain – you should all be heading back.

But instead you focused on the boat. Quite a big one, with colorful banners on it. It was boat made in the name of king – and you all knew what that meant – tax collector was coming to your island.

It usually meant two things – horses being sold way under their worth and women disappearing to never come back again – usually with consent of both sides. Tamna could be suffocating. With Japan closed for foreigners, Joseon closed for Tamna people, your small island was your whole world.

You hear a long deep sound from the shore, and obediently you release your anchoring stone, put the taewak net on your back, and using bladder you start swimming back, without looking twice at the boat.

Other women pick up their song.

_Our blood and sweat,  
The work never ends,_   
_Absent women of the sea,_   
_Where will we go?_

*

Procession is long. Way too long, especially when you are kneeling on the dusty road.

First went banners bearers. Then the soldiers. Then again banners bearers. Soldiers on horses. Musicians. Banners bearers. More soldiers. Governor and tax collectors.  Governor’s family. Soldiers. Banners bearers. Soldiers on foot. Banners bearers. Tax collectors’ carriages. Soldiers. Banners bearers.

All in all three hundred people marched through your village. You’ve been informed about their arrival yesterday, but even without that knowledge you would have hear them hours before they arrived.

But it meant no work today. Only the oldest ,and the youngest, and those indispensables in their work were allowed not to come. The rest was forced to wear their best clothes and kneel on the ground in wait for the governor.

That was misuse of power, but for peace of your village, you would do this – and _more_.

Your village is the closest to governor’s palace, so soldiers are still energetic, and they still march with dedication, every step sending clouds of dust into the air – into your faces, clothes and hair.

They stop when governor reaches main square. But it takes way longer before you can move there to offer your tribute. Soldiers have to make way for the carriages, and tax collectors have to be seated in front of the governor, and all of them have to be protected from sun, and soldiers still have to show you their power, and it takes ridiculously long time.

But finally they are ready to collect taxes, and you can move from your knees, and go to stand in the queue with the rest of your family and rest of the villagers.

Every household has to present itself and explain if somebody is missing, and inform about every death and every birth in the family, and then, accordingly, leave third of their produce.

Village takes care of the members of the community. You made sure that everyone had enough to present to the tax collectors, so none of you is anxious. It’s just a gruesome process.

But finally – you, your mother, father and your four sisters stand before governor.

He is an old, fat man. It’s no secret that out of the taxes that should go back to Joseon, he takes what is best. But then, except for his hunger for power and greed, he is a just govern, so Tamna people doesn’t complain. As long as they have food and horses to breed and sea to fish in, Tamna people are peaceful.

Two tax collectors are wearing blue hanboks, as they should. One of them is young, as if he just passed the civil exam, the other one is middle-aged, with hawk-like stare. He is the one who asks question.

To your father.

Or usually, to the oldest male in the family.

Except from that, he could be tolerable. But you are not Joseon, man is no head of family. But nor your mother, nor every other women decides to speak up.

Peace. Your people like peace.

You stay silent as your father introduces your family, and talks about catches and how your youngest sister started diving with you for the first time this year.

“ _Still no son?”_ Asks older collector, and no one bats an eye. In Tamna, your father is blessed. To have six divers in the family? That is a blessing. But younger collector seems to agree. Only governor, even though Joseon person, has been here long enough to understand.

Your father shrugs apologetically, and moves to give awaiting soldier your family’s tax.

Only then you realize that one of the soldiers standing behind governor’s chair is staring at you, and probably has been staring for a prolonged period of time. You look at him boldly, too late realizing that he is also Joseon person, and you could have endangered your village.

You can stare boldly at men from your island. Not the foreigners.

And even being a subject to the same king, he was still a foreigner.

 _“Next.”_  Calls older collector, and your family moves to the side, shielding you from the soldier’s stare. You stay there, listening to all your neighbors describing their year. From this side you hear familiar talk, familiar accent, familiar events. But… The way Joseon people speak… Is different. The accent, the phrasing, the words. It’s all foreign.

*

On top of taxes, you have to feed and entertain the whole procession.

And so you do. It’s the best you can do, but you know that all villagers find the fact, that your alien visitors find your cooking and entertainment subpar, quite enjoyable.

But you are still loud and homely, and act to every belief they might have about your community. It’s always better to keep outsiders in the dark about the life of your village.

You join other unmarried girls in the circle dance, and after what it seems like half an hour, you go back to your family, when village elders take the stage to play music.

That’s where you find the foreign soldier, the one that was looking at you, asking your father for you. As in marriage.

Your father seems both outraged and terrified, your mother sitting next to him seems half amused, half annoyed, and your two youngest sisters (too small to dance, but old enough to dive) seem entranced.

“Excuse me, sir.” You say out loud, feeling how your insides start to churn in anger. He turns around, and his face lights up, when he sees you. “I have no business marring Joseon person.”

He looks… Taken aback. To the point where he looks over his shoulder at your father, who shrugs, for the second time today.

Boonya, your second youngest sister, the most brave one, runs to your father, and grabs his hand.

“If sister doesn’t want to, I am willing!” And they both look to your mother.

“No.” She says decisively, and your sister deflates. You’ve been observing soldier this whole time, so you saw the moment he started to realize that he might have addressed the wrong person, because he slowly turned to your mother. She laughed. “I would give you praise for quickly realizing that here the world is different than that of land-walkers. It’s women world. We need no land-dwellers to stir nonsense here. So even if you were to ask me for my daughter, I would advise against – too much trouble raising one of you to be real islander.”

“Find yourself a wife oversea, eh?” You say, and rush past him to seat next to your father at the table. Soldier doesn’t move, but both you and female family members ignore him. You can only see your father looking up at him, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

 _“Will you sit with us?”_ He finally says, and all of your sisters look at him surprised. Is he really using land language?

“ _If that’s not a bother.”_ Soldier says, and sits down in front of your father. He glances quickly at you, and suddenly you realize – he didn’t understand a word from you or your mother said.

 _“How they call you?_ _“_ Asks your father, and you look suspiciously at your mother. All of the islanders understand language from the land – but no one really speaks it. And the fact that your mother seems to be avoiding your gaze tells you the story.

 _“Kim Shin, father._ _“_   Soldier answers, and you snort under your nose, hearing the word _father_. Whose father exactly?

Your father sends you unhappy glance, so you turn to your oldest sister.

 _“That is a good name. A mighty one.”_ Says your father, pushing food to his interlocutor. _“But you see, Tamna is very different from Joseon. Where do you come from exactly?”_

_“Gyeongju, father. And I already gathered that much.”_

_“The old capital? Gyeongsang province, the land of the men? That could pose a serious problem. If Gyeongsang is the land of men, Tamna is a land of women. Woman is the head of the household, and woman is the one choosing her husband. And if you want to wed my daughter, instead asking me, or more fittingly my dearest wife, you should make my daughter want you as a husband.”_

“Father!” You call, hearing your sister giggle. “I don’t want him! He probably knows nothing more than toy around with his sword and few Chinese books. How is that helpful to the household? He won’t even be able to raise children! How I am supposed to do that while diving?!”

“She has a point.” Says your mother, and you know you won. If your mother agrees, than it’s a done deal.

Your father doesn’t even look at you.

_“The most important part would be to learn language of this island. So you can understand when she is cursing at you.”_

Soldier, Kim Shin, laughs.

*

Soldier, Kim Shin, stayed in the village. Governor went away, with the rest of his procession, but Kim Shin stayed in the village. And in such small community everyone knew why.

It baffled you and it annoyed you. Why would he stay, when the rest of his family was over the sea. You wouldn’t go there. And how he could not understand that you didn’t want him as husband.

But it baffled you more that your father did everything to help him. What’s more, as time passed other men in the village started to do so, as well.

Elder allowed him to sleep in one of his spare rooms, other allowed him to earn his share. He farmed, he breed horses, he learned how to sail, he learned the language.

And every morning, without a fail, he would come to wait for you, so he could wish you a good catch, with the very first islander’s phrase he learned.

“May Yongdu bring you back.”

Which your sisters found irresistible.

The fact that he was tall and handsome, and seemingly strong didn’t help.

The fact that after the first night your mother learned about Kim Shin staying in the village, and fighting with your father over it till the wee hours of the morning, and she never said a word about this again – it was also very confusing.

Had they tried, your mother or your father, to talk you into this marriage you would have easily said _no_ , and lived on.

But without such guidance you didn’t know what to do.

He was persistent. Chatting you up, every time you were coming home from the dive, taking your net, and cleaning the catch, sailing with other men to fish, breeding horses, helping with repairing thatch on the houses.

So when on one autumn’s morning he presented her with new sickle, sharp and beautiful, with rock handle, clearly self-made, but way more beautiful than anything she ever seen, she just said _yes_.

He didn’t ask. He was living there long enough to know, that it was _her_ choice. He might have hoped, but he never asked again.

But she still answered the question he posed months earlier, during the governor’s visit.

And he simply couldn’t find a word. Seeing him like this, so elated that he couldn’t even voice it, made you sure that it was a right choice. And the fact that you did it without any pretentious gestures, made it way more homely.

And that was the most important to you.

So you took your new sickle, you fixed your taewak, and your bladder, and you turned on your heel to follow your sisters. But you no longer were like them. Now you were promised.

He was so happy he couldn’t even say “may Yongdu bring you back”.

*

You got moved to the highest tier. The best tier. To tier where your mother was, and every other important women of your community, those with the highest skill and the best catches. First of your sisters to do that, and first in this year to achieve that.

The day you agreed to marry foreigner, you got promoted to the highest tier – both events were surprising, but both elating. But together… It was a happiness you couldn’t even understand.

But you stifled it – diver needs to be focused to do their job, and to do it well. Especially on the first day of new assignment, you have to show that you are worthy.

Especially when you got promoted half year earlier that you expected. Of course it was you dream, so you were happy, but at the same time – your community never promoted divers ahead of their time. Even if they were good enough – just to protect them. Sea is dangerous and traitorous, and no one should ever forget that.

As always you enter the water at the first sound. You are meticulous in your preparation, especially now, in the autumn, when water is just unstable. You don’t know what can happen in a minute.

You swim with the rest of top tier, further than usually, but you know the drill. You drop your anchor, you secure your bladder and taewak, and you wait for the sound of the first dive.

You dive. Water is colder here and deeper, but you can still see the rocks underneath so it calms you down. You vow to stay next to the line connecting your taewak to your anchor, just in case.

Your first catch is an octopus. It fights you, all eight arms sucking onto the rocks, but it has no strength against your new sickle. So first catch in your new position is an octopus. That is a nice catch.

In the beginning you keep close to others, and to your anchor. But soon you realize, that it’s no different than being in middle tier, except for better catches and deeper water. You start being bold. In the end you are Tamna women, you are raised to be bold and fearless. Third octopus lands in your net, along with smaller catches, when you go up to rest.

Your mother smiles to you.

“Soon, we will be swimming back.” She says, and looks at the sky. It’s dark, it’s going to rain soon. “I don’t think we will go back for the second dive today, so you should try to go down for one more fish, and call it a day. Good job, my daughter.”

She smiles at you, and you smile back, realizing that she doesn’t yet know. And that in a half an hour you are going to see Kim Shin. Maybe you could fry something for him?

So you change your sickle to a spear and you take a deep breath and go down once more.

You see it. A fish of a length of your forearm. That would do nicely.

You dive after it, legs kicking forcefully – catching fish is harder than catching octopus or _abalone_. Spear is parallel to your body, not to disrupt your chase, and when you are close enough you push it, piercing through the fish, wedging the blade into the seafloor.

That might have not been the cleanest kill, but it will be good enough. Knowing your limits and your air reserve is also vital, so you swim to your catch quickly, knowing that you wouldn’t want to risk staying underwater for too long.

But you can’t reach the spear.

In fact water keeps pushing you away, and before you realize it – it’s too late. You swam in the middle of rip current – pushing you into the sea.

You panic, even though you tell yourself not to. Your mind is busy analyzing things that have already happened, how could you miss the signs? Different color of the water, irregular waves, narrow channel of choppy water – you know how rip current looks, and yet you swam right into it.

But analyzing doesn’t help. You fight with the current, even though you know not to. You should let it push you out, so you can go out of it when it loses it strength. You know that, you know that, You know that, you know that, _you know that_. But your mind is blank, and your arms and legs are flailing about, and you try to go out, and you try to breath, but you can’t, current pushing you down to the sea floor, and your lungs hurt and your limbs hurt and your eyes hurt, and you look up, seeing light over your head, but you can’t go up, you keep fighting, but you just can’t keep up, and you open your mouth, and salty water goes into your pipes, and you know, that Yongdu is not going to bring you back.

Water is freezing, and so are your limbs. There are weird, colorless shapes, scarecely illuminated in the deep waters, dancing in front of you, as if laughing at your sufferings. Water washes over your lungs, pushing the rest of air out of it, bubbles disappearing in the current. You are suffocating, you are drowning, you are dying the most horrible death for a diver.

On the day you said yes.

***

She drowned. She drowned and it was his fault.

Kim Shin wasn’t the one that found the body. Divers came back from the dive horrified, with no power to go to search for her, because rain came, bringing strong waves. It was his anger and misery showing.

She drowned. On the very day she yielded.

She washed ashore in the next village. She was purplish white, and her face showed horror of her last moments. They said she was caught in rip current. They said it was too early for her to be in the high tier. They said she was a good diver. They said everyone could have made that mistake.

She drowned. She drowned, because of him.

No one knew she agreed. No one knew they were supposed to get married. Her father invited him to her funeral. He saw her being buried once again. Villagers pleaded Yongdu not to take more of their own.

She drowned, and Kim Shin cursed Yongdu. But Yongdu did not care.

In the end, it was Kim Shin’s fault. Highest tier was her dream. He knew it, she heard it her prayers many times. And out of gratitude, out of love, when she said yes, he fulfilled her dream. Even though he knew that it will come around on its own. He needed to validate her and himself.

And he killed her.

Again.


	5. March 1st

Her deaths started to haunt him. Every time he dared to close his eyes, she was right there, behind his eyelids, slashing her own throat, hanging from the tree, dying under his fingers, dying in her bed.

She was dying, she was only ever dying.

He went back to the mainland, scared of the sea. He was an immortal, he wouldn’t die at the sea – but her spirit seemed to haunt him all the way back, as the storm raged. He kept apologizing, unmoving at the side of the boat, even when sailors screamed to him about the dangers of the storm. He couldn’t die, even if he tried, so he faced the waves and wind and rain, seeing her rightful ire in nature.

It was the only thing he could do until he’d find her again.

*

Once again the world started to change around him. He feared those changes, history taught him enough to know that change is never good, change never brings blessings. He didn’t trust the change, even though his eyes were telling him that he should.

Foreigners didn’t come. They couldn’t. But their ways, their beliefs seeped through nooks, coming from China, coming from Japan. The hermit kingdom was being flooded with ideas that were as foreign as the nobility of the country feared.

The notion that people are equal in front of the divine being – that God doesn’t differentiate between man and woman? That wasn’t an idea Joseon dynasty could stand behind.

Even if that was the idea that Kim Shin supported with his whole heart. After four centuries the domain of man was being threatened, for the first time in four centuries, it seemed like Kim Shin’s sins were finally finding a way to be atoned for.

The names for the ideas were foreign. Kim Shin had never heard of Jesus Christ and he’s never heard of his sacrifice for people – but the God in those stories? Kim Shin knew the God. God was the one responsible for his voyage through time. God was the one who put him in the misery of searching for her through space and time.

It didn’t matter, whether it was called God or Divine. It was still a dick.

Soon enough all of those _Christians_ were being persecuted. If Kim Shin knew one thing – it was the knowledge that persecuting an idea made it spread like a wildfire.

Christianity did not prevail – but the ideas it brought? They certainly did.

Christianity itself stood against Confucian’s ideals. That’s why Kim Shin was not surprised, when he saw her, lead through the city with a hundred others Christians. He was not surprised when he heard her praying – it wasn’t his name that she was calling, she called for God and his son, but he heard her clearly. She wasn’t wishing to be spared. She wasn’t cursing on her persecutors. She didn’t even ask for her death to be quick. She thanked God for being with her and leading her. She believed that whatever he might have in store for her, she would be able to withstand it. She was willing to face the trial, in the name of her fate.

Kim Shin did not dare to free her. He didn’t dare to appear in front of her, such strong was her conviction. She stood, unwavering, one among hundred and one, and she looked death in the eye as if saying: “you will not break me, nor will you scare me, for I am not alone”.

She wasn’t. At her execution town people filled the square. They were cussing and yelling, but none of the hundred and one denounced their faith.

Kim Shin was there at her execution, looking at her so stoic in her faith. He longed for her, he longed to meet her, to talk to her – but it wasn’t a life he was supposed to change. That was a life she didn’t live for him, nor for herself – this one was lived for God.

She wasn’t alone in her last moments, as all of them joined in a silent prayer, so strong and so pure, that _the Divine_ came. Like It never came when Goblin pleaded and cried. The Divine came to see its most faithful subjects beheaded.

As her head rolled away, still beautiful and filled with youthful spirits, a delicate butterfly flew away.

*

Kim Shin understood. Kim Shin understood that the Divine had enough with what was happening in Joseon. That it was a wind of change, finally reaching the peninsula. Christian belief was being morphed, shaped to suit Confucian country, hundreds of peasants were starting to follow the new system of beliefs. Donghak, a religion fused from Christianity, Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism, a religion that gave people the hope and a clear set of rules to live by.

A religion that started the greatest uprising that this land saw. The peasants’ rebellion that brought foreign forces to help pacify the land.

Kim Shin observed it with deep fear lodged in his chest. Ming Dynasty came to help its “younger brother”, newly westernized country of Japan also came to pacify the rebellion. And they weren’t willing to leave.

Peasants also saw the danger of foreign armies roaming freely on their land. They willingly stopped fighting. But the Japanese didn’t leave. Japanese weren’t going to leave.

Was it a Divine’s way to purge Kim Shin’s sins? Was It making Joseon people fight with invaders, for them to unify under one flag? Was there a purpose in Its ways?

Because if not, Joseon people were suffering. Joseon people were in danger and Kim Shin didn’t know what to do.

Once again he saw her. Once again she was brighter then circumstances should have allowed her. Once again she was already wed to another, she was a wife to the most powerful man in the land, she was _the Empress_. Empress Min, who saw the danger, who championed for Joseon people to westernize. To modernize.

Who saw Japanese for monsters they were.

And those soulless bastards murdered her. They invaded the palace, they set it burning, and they saw her son. A young boy, young prince – two years old only, a scared child calling for his mother to help him, to hold him, this poor boy upon seeing his mother ran to her.

He ran to his mother only to see her captured, slew and rolled in a carpet in which she was burned.

Kim Shin didn’t know why he didn’t go to her help. He simply didn’t know, that was barbaric death. That called for vengeance. And yet he didn’t do a thing.

Kim Shin was tired. Kim Shin didn’t want to continue watching his country fall. He watched as black veil fell upon Joseon.

The annexation.

The annexation came on August 22, 1910. Kim Shin saw his once strong, prideful, independent country became Japan’s colony.

And it broke his heart.

*

There were too many of them. Too many of Joseon people were calling for him. Too many of them were miserable, too many of them asked for things he couldn’t give them. Too many of them mourned their country.

And way too many of them didn’t.

He left.

Kim Shin left Joseon, scared, running away from the responsibility. The world was new and exciting, different civilization waiting for him to explore. He travelled through lands, he saw the land of the United States and its people, so different from him. He saw the Hispanic lands, he travelled to the continent of colonies – he saw the world where white people invaded, colonized and exploited other cultures, knowing that back home his people suffered the same fate.

He saw a war. A new war, total war, where ordinary people were in the middle of the fighting field. He saw new weapons, he saw how ordinary people suffered. But he also saw the aftermath of the great war. He saw countries gain their independence back, some of them waited over a hundred years for it!*

That’s when the news came – his people woke up from their stupor, they were on the streets, demanding their country back! They proclaimed their independence, and they wanted nothing more than their country back.

And Kim Shin couldn’t leave them alone. He couldn’t ignore their calls anymore.

So he came back. He came back to see peaceful demonstration turning into a bloodbath. He saw the violence of white uniforms, he saw streets of capital adorned with corpses, and he understood – he can’t leave anymore. Until he can see his country free.

***

_March 1 st, 1919*_

_I’ve heard it! People outside of our school calling for Independence. Oh, so much my poor heart yearned to join my people outside the gates! Since our Emperor, may he rest in peace, passed away there was no hope in sight, and yet today it happened. Hyeonsuk’s brother told us today that at 2pm Korean Declaration of Impendence was proclaimed, and I could not imagine a happier day. We, me, Kim Huija, Guk Hyeonsuk, Seo Myeonghak, Seong Changho, Sin Teuksil, No Yedal, and other girls, we wanted to join them, but principal Frey ordered to lock the gates. We could only listen to our compatriots crying_ manse.

You hear familiar creaking and you immediately push your diary on your bedside table and blow off the candle. Then you freeze on your bed looking toward the doors. You can see shoes stopping in the creak under it. After a second overseeing lady goes away.

But your heart is still pounding. You can still hear capital – you can still hear _manse_. You know that the march today was pacified – principal Frey told you that much, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your nation is finally moving against the occupant. It’s been nine years. The greater part of your life. But hope is back, and so is your will to fight.

*

Guk Hyeonsuk grabs your hand during recess. She seems excited and she yanks you away, out of earshot of overseeing lady. Your heart skips a beat. Guk Hyeonsuk’s brother is studying at Joseon Christian College*, and thanks to him she knows everything that is happening in the city. Which is way more exciting now, that people are standing up against the enemy.

“Demonstrations will assume tomorrow, at Namdaemun Station, at 8 o’clock,” she says while excitedly squeezing your hand to the point where it starts to hurt, but it doesn’t matter. You can feel elation spreading through your body. You have to be there. You simply can’t miss such an opportunity. It’s your duty to fight for your country.

“We’ll need red fabrics,” you answered, already looking for the rest of the girls. You are sure they’ll want to join you.

Red fabrics you steal from theatre hall. Few scraps cut off the curtain will be enough to prepare makeshift headbands for seven people – because that’s the headcount.

Seo Myeonghak who is the most skilled in crafts make those and at 5 am, the seven of you are sneaking out of Ehwa over collapsed part of the fence. Streets are mostly empty, but there is an excited buzz in the air. You can see students, both girls and boys alike, walking in groups. You merge together, growing in numbers as you walk to the meet-up point. Seong Changho is holding your hand and it helps you still your heart.

Japanese didn’t hesitate with attacking protesters. It’s not safe, but that is a price you are willing to pay for your motherland.

The crowd at the Station brings tears to your eyes. You are so moved to be among your people to protest for your country and every single one of those around you. You deserve your own country. You are _not_ Japanese. You are Korean, from the country of Joseon, and nothing and no-one can change that.

***

She caught his eyes. Of course, she would be here. Of course, she would be out there fighting for her country. For their country – she was doing it thirteen centuries ago and she will be doing it as long as it will be needed.

She was young. Sixteen at best, face fresh, eyes focused, red headband on her forehead only accentuating her pale skin.

Kim Shin made sure that even when occupant started attacking the crowd she’d be safe. He shadowed her all the way back to her school. Ehwa. Of course, where else she could study.

***

_March 8 th, 1919_

_They’ve closed the schools. Guk Hyeonsuk and her brother went back home, and I am on my way as well. I do not fret because I see it for what it is: a chance given to me by God, the One that Reigns in Heavens. The King of Heaven’s Kingdom is showing us that the occupant is scared. That our voice is being heard. And I know my mission is to spread the fire of Independence in my hometown._

You close your diary, knowing how truthful are your words. You are recognizing hills and valleys of your childhood and you exhale. Your heart hurts for Seoul, but you know that you have your mission even here.

*

The next day, after Sunday’s service you did let young men go out. It scared you. Boys knew you, alright, but you feared that they won’t listen. But they did. They’ve heard you as you’ve spoken about demonstrations in Seoul. Their eyes shone when you spoke about Independence.

Freedom. It’s a thing worth fighting for.

***

Kim Shin followed her home. She came from a lovely village in Cheonan County. It reminded him of his own home, long ago, back when he fought Gaya in the name of his king. It reminded him of a Queen that stood on white steps, unwavering with rows of bows behind her. It reminded him of her, a woman that knew him, a woman that did not stop him, knowing what would become of her if she didn’t.

And he knew and understood even without Divine intervention that it was not his right to act. It was not within his rights to distract her in any way. He heard her prayers, he knew her plans and it would be a dishonour and disservice to his nation had he stopped her.

So he watched from afar. He watched as she sewed Korean flags. He watched as she walked 30 km every day from one village to another, asking for cooperation. People joined her, of course, they did. She was a Queen. By marriage, by right. She was an Empress. She was a woman that was to be a Goblin’s wife.

He watched her when she climbed up a nearby mountain with her brother, where they lit up their torches. Even his heart grew when he saw flickering lights answer a call on neighbouring hills. He watched her the next morning when she distributed Korean flag, and when she marched in the first row of villagers heading to the station of Japanese military police. His mouth moved in time with their cries: _manse, Choseon manse, Hanguk manse, manse, manse, manse…_

Kim Shin saw Japanese militia open fire and he saw her parents being shot dead. It made him move, it made him break his resolve – he needed to make sure she was ok. He could not stand another death. If she was to wed another – then so be it, but he couldn’t watch her die again.

She cried and mourned her parents in the forest, where her friends stood with her. They all lost someone, but they didn’t lose hope for Independence. Kim Shin heard their prayers, heard their promises and fears, and wondered if he’d be able to help them. If his powers were enough to get rid of the occupant.

He didn’t see her go home. But he heard her. Loud and clear as she shouted _manse, manse, manse_ over and over again when the militia was dragging her to the station. Her voice was strong and clear in the quiet night, and her defiance was like a petroleum poured over a fire in villager’s hearts.

He ran to her. He didn’t think about it, his only goal was her safety.

But it wasn’t meant to be. Divine stopped him, Almighty pushing him back. She was to be a martyr. She was to be a symbol. She was to be a hatred in Korean’s heart. She was to be their strength and power, just like she was to him.

She was tortured to disclose people that helped her. She didn’t say a word.

For being a leader of the protest prosecution asked for three years sentence. Other people got one. But during her trial, she shouted to the judge, “As invaders in my country, what rights in the world do you have to punish me?” Then she threw her chair toward the judge.

Kim Shin witnessed that. It didn’t matter it upgraded her from three years to seven and gave her a title of a felon. At the age of sixteen. At the age of sixteen, she was sent to Seodaemun Prison. The tortures she had to bear were breaking him. Every day he fought the Divine, every day he cried and screamed, and pleaded. Every day was a torture. Every day was humiliation. Every day was a hell.

***

Being short turned out to be quite a blessing. You could lay on the ground of your solitary cell when men couldn’t. It wasn’t much of a cheer-up, but nothing really was.

You cough. Your body is freezing, and no wonder. They keep you out in the cold and douse with ice water till you lose consciousness. Then they place you next to a hot stove and start again. Sometimes they force icy water into you through a hose in your vagina.

But you know that there are people who have worse. You are still young and you know that worse is yet to come. You know that you are going to get weaker. You’ll wilt. And you fear that it might finally break you. It’s hard to think about Independence and motherland when every day is a nightmare.

You can hear low moans on the other side of the wall. He was burned today. You can smell the burnt skin. It nauseates you.

You can’t go to sleep, it’s too cold in your cell, and you can feel your fever rising. Also going to sleep means that morning will come sooner.

Dim light coming through a small window in your doors suddenly disappears. You smile.

“Have you come to finish it all?” You ask, barely recognizing your own voice. An answer doesn’t come, and you move up the cell to rest your back against the cold wall. You don’t try to walk anymore – feet frozen over for good.

There he is. Your guardian with sorrow in his eyes, dirt and blood on his armour and sword in his heart.

“It took you long enough,” you say and you didn’t want it to sound as an accusation. But you think it was. It’s been a year. It’s been over a year since you’ve entered this place. You stare at his face and you see pain. You know pain. You’ve become quite close. But you don’t want to go on. You don’t want any more pain. Your voice breaks when you speak up again, dropping to barely a whisper. “Can you… Can you make sure that I’ll be buried with our flag?”

***

He cried only when he left the prison. Her light dimmed, but she was still bright when she spoke. He was delicate, allowing her to fall asleep. Painless sleep, that would bring her straight to her God. He did it once again, he killed her. The fact that it gave her peace brought him solace, but once again she died at his hand.

He made her torturers give her body out to Ehwa teachers. Her coffin was covered with Korean national flag when it was lowered to the grave. The epitaph read:

 _A flower of the March First Movement. May she watch over us as we bring freedom to our country_.


End file.
